Highs & Lows
by mayzee
Summary: Tag to 5.12 Little Red Corvette. After returning Marvin Pettigrew to his mother, Jane visits Lisbon in her office. Oneshot. Reviews, as ever, are appreciated.


**A/N: Tag to 5.12 Little Red Corvette. After he returns Marvin Pettigrew to his mother, Jane pays Lisbon a visit in her office. It's a little rambling and primarily dialogue based and, to be honest, I don't think that good so read at your discretion (I'm really selling it here!). But something that appeared on my blank page after a troubling few weeks I thought I'd share it anyway.**

 **I'd also like to give a shout out to the highly talented Leafenclaw who has been motivating me lately to write more (whether that was their intent or not!). Thank you.**

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Highs & Lows

"Hey." Jane poked his head in the door of Lisbon's office.

Eyes firmly set on the deluge of paperwork that littered her desk she murmured, "Everything go okay?"

He strolled in, closing the door behind him. The clatter of the blinds made her look up.

Cheerfully, "Marvin Pettigrew returned safe and sound. I expect junk food will be for supper this evening and every other for weeks to come."

She smiled faintly as he took a seat opposite, "Must have felt good, huh?"

As she picked up her pen again he said, "It did. You should have come with like I suggested. This was your case, your...white whale, if you will, more than it was mine."

She scoffed quietly, "Had to stay behind to process said whale."

"Anyone could have done that." He leaned forward and steepled his fingers together in his lap. Softly, "Not often we get moments like those in this job, though. To be the bearer of good news when we knock on a door and not bad."

She shrugged, cheeks reddening as he continued to stare at her.

They locked eyes when his silent scrutiny became unbearable. "What did you say once? I don't need all that...treacle or something like that. Guess I wasn't in the mood for it today, Jane. That's all."

"Hm. And I was deflecting then-"

"More like lying through your teeth that day if I recall correctly-"

"More like economical with the truth. But forget that-"

She huffed, "Hardly likely to after those six months in anger management-"

"Meh, much good it did you. Anyway, stop deflecting. You won't deter me, Lisbon."

She sighed and began to punch keys on her computer. "Deter you from what exactly, Jane?"

"Making my point."

"I thought you'd made it already. Today was a good day."

"Except it's left you feeling sad and not happy. Well, not sad exactly but-"

"I'm not sad! I'm just busy, that's all."

"You're always busy but it doesn't make you always...almost sad."

She rolled her eyes and got up from her desk. "I told you-"

"And you were lying."

She moved to the filing cabinet. "Oh so I lie but you're merely economical with the truth?" she said with an exasperated smile.

"So you admit it, then," he grinned victoriously.

Exhaling loudly she opened a drawer and withdrew a file. She turned around. "What exactly do you want me to confess to here, Jane? Can we just get to that so I can get on with my work in peace please?"

"If you insist. That while you're pleased and relieved to have caught Volker today it has also brought upon a certain degree of...melancholia."

Mouth open to disagree she shut it again quickly as a frown developed. "I suppose...I suppose you could be right."

He nodded. "Because as positive the outcome of today was-"

"It doesn't bring Amanda Shaw back," she confessed. "Or any of the others he had killed." She walked back to her desk and sat down opposite him. "Of course I'm relieved that Marvin was returned but..."

"Part of you feels like you didn't do your job well enough to share in that moment. That you didn't deserve the praise Marvin's mother would surely have heaped upon you."

Her nose crinkled. Quietly, "Is that weird? That I feel that way?"

"Well, I'm hardly what you'd call proficient in what's considered having healthy reactions to situations myself."

"Damn straight," she muttered, eyes drifting to play with a pen.

His lips curved into a smile before it disappeared again. Softly, "You did all that you could for Amanda Shaw, Lisbon. You got her justice."

"I was also responsible for Volker turning on her in the first place."

"Lisbon-"

"Don't disagree with me on that point, Jane. You're hardly capable of winning an argument based on someone's feelings of remorse and guilt, are you?"

He held his hands up. "Fair point. But your situation is different."

"I agree. What's different is that I knew when I talked to her that I was putting her at risk. You could have had no idea what you did would do the same for your family."

"Meh, semantics."

"No, it's not." She breathed out to calm down. "Look, I know I did what I thought was right at the time. And that, in the same circumstances, I would probably do the same again. But I should have protected her better."

"Well, like your argument just now to me – you had no reason to believe at the time her life was in imminent danger."

"Yeah, I know. Guess it just doesn't feel like it's much of an accomplishment catching him now it's over."

"You thought it would be different? Because of how personal this one was for you?"

Awkwardly, "Suppose part of me did. Stupid, really."

"Not stupid. But many times in life the chase for what you desire can be more exhilarating and thrilling than the victory itself. And if it's something you're entirely focused on – if it's the most important aspect to your life existence then that becomes all the more exhilarating.

Because that's when you feel most alive, the adrenalin rush of gaining ground, of honing in on your prey. Of the plans you make, the time you invest, of seeing that moment when you have victory in your sights. That's the sweet spot – that moment of absolute clarity when you realise you're about to attain what you have set out to achieve. After that moment has passed it's natural for there to be a sense of dissatisfaction or listlessness, boredom, even - _ennui_ as the French would say. Because after an adrenalin high there's only one way to go for your body to react."

"Feeling low, you mean."

"Precisely. Similar to you at 2pm if you haven't had a coffee before lunch and your caffeine levels and the sugar hit from your bear claw that morning have worn off."

"Hey, I don't become listless in the afternoon!"

"Only because you normally have people to order around and reprimand – that serves as your coping mechanism to stave off those lows – your snippiness is a way of extending that caffeine or sugar high. When there are no cases you become bored so find other methods. Normally involves you picking on me about something inconsequential I've done that day or that week instead."

She scoffed, "Inconsequential to you, you mean."

"Meh, you get my point-"

"And like finding something you have done to cause someone to complain is so hard to find any day of the year," she responded with an eye roll.

"Well, glad to be of service to keep your...dwindling embers stoked, as it were," he grinned.

The comment made her blush and Jane shifted in his seat uneasily as he cleared his throat. "You catch my drift," he shrugged, brushing an imaginary piece of fluff from his pants.

She went back to work as he sat there, companionable silence restored against the background noise outside in the bullpen. It was only a minute or two later she noticed his posture had changed out of the corner of her eye, his face vacant of amusement, embarrassment or ribbing.

She chanced a glance at him, his gaze focused on nothing in particular as he stared off to his side, teeth lightly gnawing on his lower lip and mind squarely elsewhere on a private island furnished with memories, regrets and fears.

A long moment later, "Do-do you worry it'll be the same for you if you catch Red John?" she whispered, part of her ashamed for the question and intruding on his musing.

He blinked himself back to her presence opposite him again, reminding her of reruns of a genie she had watched on television with her grandfather years back who did the same to make wishes come true. Jane's blink was just as fluid and he smiled easily at her, any sign of introspection vanished like a magic trick in itself.

"Who knows," he shrugged with a light-heartedness to his tone that suddenly irritated her. He rose from his chair to leave.

"That's not fair, you know," she told him. "That thing you do to people."

He frowned, "What thing?"

"Telling people how they feel and getting them to open up to you but never doing the same in return. That thing."

He smiled, "You think the criminals we catch want to hear my sad story in return for theirs?"

"You know that's not what I meant." Anger evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. Gently, "You _can_ talk to me, Jane. About...about anything. You know that, right?"

He pursed his lips, rolled on the soles of his feet for a moment as he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. "I do know that. And...I thank you for that. Truly, Lisbon, I do. But..." He shook his head. "But I can't open that door. Not even with you, I'm afraid."

"That door will have to be opened one day. You _do_ know _that_. You can't repress your grief and distract yourself from it with your hunt for Red John forever, Jane. And your _high -_ if that what all these years are for you - then you'll experience your own low afterwards too."

She licked her lips as he stared back, his face as inscrutable as ever. "When you're ready, though..."

"Then I'll find you. And then I'll talk to you."

"You mean that or are you just telling me that so I won't worry?"

He smiled softly at her. "You're going to worry whatever answer I give you."

"Yeah," she replied with a sad smile.

He turned his back on her then stood at the door for a moment. With a sigh he turned around again. "I was telling you the truth just now," he said quietly. "I have no idea how I will react _after_. Or...if there will even be an _after_."

Surprised by his honest response she nodded seriously, "Of course there will," she said with determination.

He chuckled quietly. "I admire your positivity on the matter. Anyhow, it's a question I've pondered for years, naturally. How will I feel when I catch him? I've asked those who've succeeded in much the same undertaking-"

"Like Max Winter, you mean?"

He was taken aback momentarily and she continued, "He plotted and planned to kill the man who murdered his wife for eight years, organised for him to be released from prison to do so. He would have killed Dahl that night if he hadn't already been dead, shot him in the face anyway. You think the similarities between you and he escaped my attention?"

"I never thought much about your take on it, to be honest. But yes, I asked him how he felt afterwards."

"And his answer?"

Jane rocked on his toes slightly and he shrugged. "Doesn't matter what it was. What I have learned is that just because one man reacts in one way doesn't mean another will do likewise. What I won't know is how I'll feel until it's over. And, however that will be will be."

She raised an eyebrow. "Assuming you survive."

He smiled, "Well, yes. Otherwise I won't have to get into all that trouble of the deep examination of my mortal soul." More seriously, "But no matter the reaction it won't remove the pain of the loss. I saw that in Max's eyes. Anyone I've talked to about this. How I live with what I will do when I catch Red John...well, that is a mystery that will remain to be unveiled until then."

"So, in theory, you may regret what you are planning for him?"

A half shrug. "It's a possibility, yes. But a highly improbable one. When I killed Timothy Carter I had no such regrets."

"But you barely had time to come to terms with what you did that day before you realised he wasn't Red John."

"True but my answer remains the same."

She prodded, "But even that possibility of regret at a later stage - that doesn't give you pause to rethink your future actions?"

"Not at all. I will live with the consequences and whatever might be stirred up emotionally no matter what they are or what that is. You said the same with the Amanda Shaw situation. That you would do the same again. Your regret is in perceiving not to have protected her better, not in getting her to talk in the first place to catch Volker."

"Planning on murdering someone is hardly the same thing, Jane."

"You call it murder. I call it justice, Lisbon. It's all a matter of perception."

"Not for the Courts, it isn't."

"No, but I can't worry about that."

"So you'll leave that particular worrying to me, huh? The team? The people who care for you?"

He sighed, "I've never made a secret of my plans for him, Lisbon. Must we have this conversation again? Guilt-tripping me isn't going to make me change my mind."

When she shot him a perturbed look he added, "I'm sorry, Teresa. But you need to accept the path I've chosen. You really do."

Glumly she nodded her head, "Hm."

He smiled, "But until that day let's go grab some ice cream and celebrate Marvin's return together. A sugar hit is required for your mood." He rolled his eyes theatrically, "And mine too now after this rather depressing conversation."

She was about to object as she motioned to the paperwork on her desk. Then she saw him, eyes glinting in hopeful anticipation. A cloud cleared the sun outside and lines of sun and shadow flooded her desk through her office blinds. Light and shade much like life itself. Highs and lows. Clouds more often than sun in most lives, less in others. Never knowing when the next cloud may appear. She glanced at Jane again, a mixed expression on his face now, smiling still but studying her, intrigued more than playful.

"Okay, but you're paying," she said with a smile as she got up from her desk. Maybe sometimes she was a mystery to him, after all.

He played ball immediately. Grinning, "Oh, I am, am I?"

"Yep," she beamed, grabbing her jacket.

As he smiled back as he opened the door for her she had one thought. Right now he was here in her office, their lives intertwined solving cases together. Partners and friends.

For now best to enjoy the good times.

For however long the sun would shine.


End file.
